


A Sigma By Any Other Name

by Papallion



Series: Keep it Together - Collected Sigma Fics [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Autistic Sigma | Siebren de Kuiper, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Healthy Coping Mechanisms, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:07:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25537813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Papallion/pseuds/Papallion
Summary: The other agents are trying to be friendly, but they're inadvertently making Siebren de Kuiper uncomfortable.
Series: Keep it Together - Collected Sigma Fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1864225
Comments: 1
Kudos: 50





	A Sigma By Any Other Name

“Can you be, you know, more creative, Siggy?” Lúcio asked, and Dr. Siebren de Kuiper looked down at him. 

“What do you mean?” the doctor asked. He typed on a keyboard above his left wrist that only he could see with his cybernetic relays and contracted the armor on his shoulders. The barrier generators whirred softly as they entered sleep mode.

Lúcio spun around him. “You just pick up a rock and chuck it at the target,” he said, miming the action. He was still amped from the training session, Dr. de Kuiper’s first with him.

“Well, yes,” Dr. de Kuiper said in a confused tone. “That is the most efficient way of eliminating my target.”

“But it’s boring, Siggy!” Lúcio insisted. “Where’s the style?”

“I don’t need style,” Dr. de Kuiper insisted. “I need to protect my team and eliminate my targets. Using my environment directly is the easiest and quickest method to reach my goal.” He took a breath. “Do not call me Siggy.”

Lúcio was already turning in circles again. “But it’s stale and bland! Like toast!” 

“It’s not meant to be stylish. It’s meant to be combat,” Satya Vaswani snapped. 

She and Lúcio would never be friends, but they had stopped bickering, for the most part.

“Exactly,” Dr. de Kuiper said with a nod.

“But you can do it with more style, Siggy!” Lúcio insisted. 

“Style is not needed,” Satya snapped. “Precision is. He is most precise.”

“I do not like being called Siggy,” Dr. de Kuiper sighed, but Lúcio was focused on Satya right now.

“But Siggy can do better!” Lúcio insisted.

“What can be better than doing his job?” Satya asked.

“I am right here,” Dr. de Kuiper said, but the two were busy bickering again. He sighed and spotted a crowd forming around them. “Please, I have a name.”

“Break it up, everyone, leave the doctor alone,” Soldier: 76 growled.

“Style ain’t that important, Froggy,” Junkrat said. “I, for one, can appreciate Bird Man’s rock tossing abilities.”

“But he’s got such potential!” Tracer chirped. “Why, I bet Siggy can be all sorts of fancy if we helped him!”

“I have a name!” Dr. de Kuiper snarled, and they all pulled back. “I, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry.” They had all jumped from the sudden storm of dust and stones that suddenly found themselves in his orbit. 

Dr. de Kuiper rose a few feet in the air. “I need to think.” He quickly headed towards the edge of The Rock.

“Session’s over, go run laps or something,” Soldier:76 sighed. He set the safety on his rifle and slapped it on his back, letting the magnet in his jacket hold it in place. As he wandered off everyone broke up and started to collect their gear.

Soldier:76 pulled his mask off as he entered the living quarters, and he made his way to his room. He locked his gear away, grabbed his light blue visor, and snapped it into place. He liked the full function of the red tactical visor better, but the light blue one was ‘friendlier.’ On the way out of his room and grabbed the ancient cinch bag he always had in his gear.

Some of the younger agents teased him for being an old man. He wore socks with sandals while grilling, mainly so he didn’t get coals stuck between his toes. He wore ugly floral print shirts since they were soft on his battered skin. He liked to nap in the chair in the media room so he could be out of sight but still hear the others. They teased his ancient cinch bag, which still worked, thank you very much. He didn’t need a new one, one yet.

The Lakers logo was long a crackled mess and the yellow had faded to cream, but it was still his cinch bag. 

Jack was just borrowing it.

He passed through the kitchen and dropped a few water bottles in it, a few snacks and some black liquorice candies, and trekked out to the east side of The Rock. 

There was a place on the hill everyone called ‘The Green Spot.’ Several Aleppo pines grew in a scattered circle and housed an impressive carpet of moss and several types of ferns. It was quiet and had a breeze the rest of The Rock just didn’t seem to have. People went there to sulk and unwind, for the most part.

Dr. de Kuiper was sitting in a lotus position near the top of the trees, and Morrison slung his arms through both straps of the bag.

He easily hauled himself into the tree, scaled a few branches, and sat on the tallest one that would hold his weight. “Hey, doc, got a moment?”

Dr. de Kuiper looked over, startled, and dropped his legs. He hoovered closer, and tucked his legs back into the lotus position. “I’m sorry, that was unprofessional of me,” he said in a quiet voice. 

“They don’t mean any harm.” Morrison held out a bottle of water and Dr. de Kuiper reached for it. Morrison let go when he felt a tug, and the bottle floated towards Dr. de Kuiper. “Lúcio gives everyone a nickname, and I don’t think Rat calls anyone by any proper name. They’re just trying to show you they like you.”

“I know what nicknames are,” the doctor grumbled.

“They’re also showing they like you, and not your powers.” Morrison rooted through the cinch bag. “I get it.”

“How?” Dr. de Kuiper snapped.

“Well, the UN. They never wanted me, only the idea of me. The jawline, the blue eyes, the broad shoulders. They didn’t care about how I wanted agricultural reform, school reform, my ideas on infrastructure. They just needed me to smile and make people feel good.” Morrison lifted a pack of candies, and once Dr. de Kuiper nodded, lobbed them into his orbit. “The kids like me for me, god knows why. They like you for you.”

Dr. de Kuiper hummed in agreement. “Ah, smikkelbeer, mijn favoriet!” He eagerly popped a candy drop into his mouth. “Do you think I lack ‘style?’” he asked.

“Well, professionally, I think you’re fine. You do your job without flair or fuss. You get things done. That’s what’s important.” Morrison pulled out some ruffle chips and tore the bag open.

“And personally?” the doctor asked.

“Personally I don’t want you in the field.”

Dr. de Kuiper looked over at him, startled.

“You’ve been tortured, and a few months of talking with Zenny isn’t going to fix that. You’re hurt, and still hurting. You need rest. You need physical therapy. And you’re more than a weapon, you’re a person.” Morrison popped a chip in his mouth. “You deserve better than to continue on the path Talon set for you.”

They ate their snacks in silence for a minute, then Dr. de Kuiper looked over at him. “Thank you.”

Morrison nodded and ate another chip.

“I will fight, though,” Dr. de Kuiper said firmly.

Morrison looked over to him.

“Talon took everything my own government did not. My government paralyzed me in an attempt to control my power. They blinded me while exploring my brain. I don’t know if they or Talon implanted the brain wave suppressors to make me docile. I lost my body, my mind, my very heart. I was distilled to nothing, rendered down into this cold object, this weapon. I didn’t know my own name! And I will not let anyone else be hurt like that.” His voice held cold rage and honesty. “I will stop them, any way I can.”

Morrison nodded. “Yeah, that’s fair.” He tipped his chip bag into his mouth and ate the crumbs. “That’s fair.” He folded the empty chip bag and shoved it into the cinch bag. “You wanna sit in silence for a while and watch the ocean?”

Dr. de Kuiper laughed quietly. “I’d like that.”

They sat and floated quietly, and finally it started to get dark.

Morrison reached up and tapped his earpiece. “Lena says they're getting dinner started. You ready to go in?”

“Yes. Would you care for a lift down?” the doctor asked. “Just push off. I’ll catch you.”

“OK. Here we go.” Morrison took a breath, then planted his hands on the branch. He hopped off, but was caught by a strange feeling. “This is new,” he muttered. 

“Try not to adjust so much,” Dr. dr Kuiper offered as they descended. “Little movements have large results.”

“Like a bike, don’t lean,” Morrison said, and centered himself. “It’s not so bad. I thought it would feel like the Vomit Comet, but it doesn’t.”

“It is it’s own thing, isn’t it?” Dr. de Kuiper said with a grin, and he set Morrison on the ground. “Would you like a ride back to the-”

“No, I’ll walk,” Morrison said a little too quickly. “We might try maneuvers later, with you moving people around. A fast retreat.”

“In that case, it would be easy to throw people to the desired location,” Dr. de Kuiper mused. He concentrated and generated a hypersphere. “And grab them before they stop.” He lobbed the hypersphere a few feet away, then gestured, grabbing it with a gravitational tug.

“The sudden stop might be a problem,” Morrison mused. “Eh, Junkrat would volunteer to test it out.”

They returned to the main building and were greeted by a blue blur.

“Oh, Doc, you’re OK! I’m so sorry we scared you off like that!” Lena crashed into his hips and gave him a hug; she was a very hands-on friend. “C’mon, inside with you, Rein is making some sort of mash with kraut and sausage, said you’d love it!” She took his hand and started to tug. “A stop pot!”

“Stammpot,” de Kuiper guessed.

“Kid, the doc’s got something he’d like to tell you all once he’s inside,” Morrison said, and Lena continued to tug.

“C’mon, luv, Rein’s put a lot of work into it!” Lena insisted, but suddenly found she could no longer tug Dr. de Kuiper along. “He’d love to see you!”

“Lena, I appreciate it, but I can get there myself,” he said in a gentle tone. “First, I need to put my gear away.”

“Glad you’re feeling better, I’ll let him know you’re coming! He was worried!” Lena saluted and zipped off.

“You up for this?” Morrison asked as they walked towards the living quarters.

“I’ll be fine. I’ve cooled down considerably,” Dr. de Kuiper noted. “I’ll join you for dinner shortly.”

Dr. de Kuiper returned to his room. The room had been remodeled with him in mind, and he appreciated it. Torbjörn had removed the ceiling, opening the room to the storage room above, and added a wall of clear solar panels. He opened the gear closet and started to undress.

In Talon it had taken his handlers to dress him, and he had vague memories of a deep voice telling him to lift his arms, turn this way, sit here. But now he could dress and undress himself, despite the limitations of his body.

First he unplugged the power conduits to his chest. He liked the seat belt style straps of his older armor, but Torbjörn and Reinhardt had redesigned his gear to his specifications. Reinhardt had insisted on making the outer shell gold, and Dr. de Kuiper smiled softly at the grand German’s design.

He removed his wrist guards, shoulders, and shoulder under armor, then the gloves. Everything floated to its place in his gear locker. Next he had to remove his chest plate and the battery from his back, something he needed help with until recently. He then pulled his chest and hips armor off, then the boots.

Well, he called them boots, despite not having any feet to them.

He liked the look some of the other agents gave him when he called them that.

He quickly showered in his high-ceiling bathroom, the water coming from the ceiling, and dried himself off. He dressed in his usual clothing now, a body stocking to help keep him warm, minus the feet, of course. He tugged on a pair of stirrup pants, and an ancient sweater he stole from Reinhardt. After that he pulled his ankle weights on again.

The weights kept him grounded in more ways than one. They were a reminder that gravity existed, and the sensors let him know how far from the earth he was. The information was sent to his optical cybernetic relays, like information in combat. He also had a Reinhardt tracker to keep track of the massive man.

He levitated to the kitchen, a massive room once designed to cook for a hundred people. Now it seemed barely capable of holding the agents of Overwatch. He hovered to Reinhardt’s side.

“Ah, how are you feeling, Bren?” Reinhardt asked as he tilted his head so their temples touched. "Do you feel better?"

Dr. de Kuiper was not a clingy man, but soft displays of affection were enjoyed. “I do, Rein.” He turned to the others. “I apologize for my earlier outburst. I understand you are being friendly, but, Talon, the Hague, they took everything from me, my memories, my freewill, my very identity. So, to not be called my name, after finally regaining it,” he said softly. “Please, call me Siebren, or Dr. de Kuiper. And Sigma only when we are in the field. It keeps me in the proper mindset.”

There were murmurs of understanding and apologies, and another quick hug from Lena.

“Now, I understand Rein was making stamppot?” Dr. de Kuiper settled on a high-backed chair that had been lifted to his height and everyone started to chatter again.


End file.
